“Yes,” Doc said. “Where would I be without you, my dear, to serve as my moral comp…”

Doc stopped mid-sentence. The color ran out of his face. He doubled-over and vomited, emptying his guts into the dirt.

“Doc?” Annabelle asked as she clutched the physician’s arm.

“Oh dear,” Doc said. “I seem to have succumb to the stress of this harrowing ordeal. Mr. Slade, I’m afraid you’ll have to go on…”

Doc looked up. Slade was making a mad dash down the road.

“…without me.”

“I’m not about to face the end of the world sober,” the Reverend said. “I’ve got a bottle of the good stuff. Anyone who wants a belt follow me.”

“I’ll take you up on that, Reverend,” Gunther said.

The Reverend walked into the church. Gunther followed him. Doc was a bit shaky on his feet, so Annabelle helped him up the steps.

“How embarrassing,” Doc said.

“It’s ok to get scared,” Annabelle said.

“Scared?” Doc asked. “Please. Remove that scandalous thought from your mind posthaste, my dear. I meant I am embarrassed that I am unable to assist Mr. Slade. I fear he may perish without me at his side. Oh, I do hope he muddles through somehow.”

Miles dropped his father’s rifle and bit through the leather of the bandolier, gripping it with his teeth.

He dove his front paws into the ground and ran off on all fours in a furious gallop, narrowly escaping Becker’s shots. Miss Bonnie clutched her left hand around a hunk of Miles’s fur. It was an awkward position that left her flapping in the breeze. She would have been better off had she held on to Miles with two hands, but she was not about to drop that shotgun for anything.

Hewitt returned to werewolf form and he and Becker made chase. Though still enormous when compared to a human, Miles in wolf form weighed less than Hewitt or Becker, giving him a speed advantage.

Miss Bonnie was still convinced that Miles intended her some kind of harm, though as she saw the creatures behind her gaining speed, she realized the werewolf she was with was her only hope.

The chase went down the main road, past homes and other buildings.

Hewitt and Becker decided to divide and conquer. Hewitt maintained pursuit. Becker broke off and jumped onto a rooftop, planning to cut Miles off.

Miles bashed through the courthouse doors and ran up a flight of stairs with Hewitt in tow.

Miss Bonnie still had two shots in her gun, cocked and ready to fire. The stairway was cramped and she could feel Hewitt’s hot breath as he lunged forward, his sharp teeth ready to shred her apart. She gave her attacker both barrels right in the face.

It didn’t kill him but it knocked him downstairs, buying Miles time to bash through the office at the top of the stairs. The room was empty and led nowhere.

The red head let go of Miles’s fur and dropped to her feet. Miles punched his paw through a window. It wasn’t big enough for him to fit through so he doubled the window’s size with a punch through the wall.

Miss Bonnie had two shells left in her garter. She loaded up her shotgun. Miles removed the bandolier from his mouth and handed it to Miss Bonnie.

“You want me to have this?” she asked.

Miles nodded.

Miss Bonnie tossed the bandolier over her shoulder. She petted her hand across Miles’s snout. Miles exhaled a small gust of wind out of his nostrils.

“Are you my friend?” Miss Bonnie asked.

Miles nodded again.

Heavy footsteps trudged up the stairway. Miss Bonnie grabbed a hunk of Miles’ back fur.

“All right,” she said. “Get us the hell outta here.”

Miles stepped through the open hole. Miss Bonnie screamed all the way down.

The chase continued. Miles galloped away.

Miles remembered Slade’s scent. He sniffed the air and picked it up in a few places around town. Some instances of the scent were weaker than others, depending on how long ago Slade had been in a particular area.

The young werewolf picked the closest one and headed for it. It was weak but it would have to do.

Miles threw himself onto Miss Bonnie, knocking her to the ground just in time to miss the piano as it flew over their heads.

Mr. and Mrs. Anderson weren’t so lucky. Curious about the commotion, the old couple stepped in front of the window just in time to be eviscerated, the collision causing little pieces of blood stained glass to rain down on the redhead and her unlikely hero.

The boy stood up and backed away. Miss Bonnie watched as the henchmen rose to their feet. They spread out their arms. Their clothes were torn to shreds as their bodies grew larger, nastier, and hairier.

It was sensory overload for Miss Bonnie. She trembled as she stood up. Her derringer was empty. She had no idea what the monsters before her were or how to fight them.

Miles was petrified. He had only seen two werewolves before – his father and himself in a mirror. He had never seen a werewolf that intended him harm. The sight caused his body to freeze stiff.

The drooling wolf men trudged closer. Hewitt raised his hand in the air, ready to bring his claws down on Miss Bonnie when he roared out in pain. A silver bullet tore through the beast’s cheek.

The hole did not close.

The hench-wolves turned away to see Joe Freeman cranking the lever of his rifle. Joe steadily delivered shot after shot, ripping his opponents apart. When Joe’s rifle ran out of ammo, he drew his pistol, but dropped it when Becker’s paw connected with his jaw. Joe was launched down the road, only to land on his feet.

The fire that engulfed what remained of the Bonnie Lass raged until the rest of the structure collapsed. The flames lapped at the surrounding buildings until they too ended up in a blaze.

Joe took off his silver bullet laden bandolier and dropped it along with his weapon. He wolfed out and roared. Werewolf roar translations are never easy, but it was a safe assumption that Joe was taunting Becker and Hewitt to come at him.
Hewitt, Becker and Joe crashed into each other – clawing, growling and biting like rabid animals.

Miss Bonnie grabbed Miles’ arm. He didn’t move. He wasn’t able to.

“Come on!”

Nothing.

Carefully, Miss Bonnie stepped over the Andersons’ mangled remains and located the store’s robust firearms display. She seized a double barrel shotgun off the wall then ran behind the counter, tossing every item she could get her hands on until she found a box of shells. She loaded up, then tucked a few more shells in her garter for safekeeping.

“Kid, you need to get out of here,” Miss Bonnie said to Miles as she cocked the shotgun and walked out of the store.

Joe slashed away at Becker, pushing his head into the dirt. Hewitt’s teeth tore a chunk out of Joe’s arm. It grew back.
Miss Bonnie never intended to aim for any particular werewolf. To her, they all looked the same so one monster was as good a target as the other. She pointed her shotgun at Joe, only to have the barrel smacked away by Miles at the last minute, sending the blast into the air.

Before Miss Bonnie’s eyes, Miles morphed into a towering werewolf. He wrapped his paw around the shotgun barrel, but not before Miss Bonnie panicked and pulled the trigger.

Like a puppy, Miles whimpered. He clutched his stomach then ducked into the store.

Miss Bonnie reloaded.

In his mind, Miles could hear his father’s voice.

“You’re all right,” Joe said.

Miles looked at his stomach. It was fine. Even the blood in his fur was evaporating.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” Miles said to Joe. “You were right. I should have left.”

“I know,” Joe said. “Now get back out here.”

“I can’t!” Miles said.

“‘Can’t’ stopped being an option when you stayed.” Joe said. “You’re in this now. Pick up the woman.”

“Huh?”

“PICK UP THE WOMAN!”

Miles poked his furry body out through the broken window just in time to see Miss Bonnie. Yet again, she was taking aim at Joe.

Miles picked up Miss Bonnie like she was a rag doll and threw her over his shoulder.

“Let me go!” Miss Bonnie smacked and kicked Miles repeatedly but to her, it seemed to be of no use. To Miles, it was annoying.

Becker had Joe locked in a hold. Joe struggled to break free, but Hewitt threw slash after slash across Joe’s snout.

“Get the bullets,” Joe said to Miles. “And the guns. Get them… to Slade.”

“Pa?”

Miss Bonnie used her shotgun like a club, whacking Miles repeatedly with it. She might as well have been a pesky mosquito.

“Tell him everything he needs to know,” Joe said.

“Pa!”

“GO!”

Miles grabbed the bandolier and his father’s rifle and bolted, Miss Bonnie kicking and screaming all the while.

Then he heard a gunshot and a pained roar. He stopped.

Miles watched as Becker threw his father’s limp, lifeless body down on the ground. There was a gaping hole in Joe’s head. It was put there with a silver bullet delivered by the pistol held by a naked Hewitt, now in human form.

Joe’s pistol. Miles’s heart pounded as he realized that amidst the chaos, he had forgotten to pick it up.

And now Hewitt was pointing the weapon at Miles as Becker, still in werewolf form, looked on.